Gillian Gennadievna was a born mother-in-lawnot the reserved, dignified sort, but the loud, brash, and stubborn one. Her own mother, Lucy, had whispered nervously to friends about her newborn daughter:
“She lies there in her crib, scowling, lips pursed, fists clenchedjust like a mother-in-law!”
Luckily, Lucys own mother-in-law, Valerie Grigorievna, lived in the next county and rarely visited. But when she did, the whole bakery where Lucy worked knew about it. The dough wouldnt rise, shed mix up vanilla and citric acid, the pies came out lopsided and pale, and the poor baker jumped at every sound.
“Listen, take some unpaid leave,” the manager snapped one day. “Come back when shes gone.”
“Have mercy, Mrs. Bennett!” Lucy tore off her starched cap and clutched it to her chest. “At least here I can escape her. At home, Id have to pamper her all day and repent!”
“Repent? For what?”
“Everything! The way I cook, the way I clean, the way I treat her sonMrs. Bennett, I dont even draw the curtains right!”
“Whats the right way?”
“No idea. But not like *this*!”
When the baby girl arrived, Valerie Grigorievna swooped in to “help.” She insisted the child be named Gillianafter her late motherpublicly had her baptised (a risky move for the Communist parents), terrified the midwife, reduced Lucy to nervous tics, then left, convinced the silly girl would ruin the child.
Lucy spent the next week in tears. Her husband, Gene, dipped into his secret boat fund and bought her a gold chain with a little pendant.
Despite grannys grim predictions, the baby not only survived but thrived. Little Gill walked early, mastered the potty quickly, and spoke clearlyand thoughtfully. By four, she baffled adults with questions like:
“What do you love? What kind of person are you? Why do we smile?”
Lucys bakery friends and Genes factory matessimple, warm-hearted folkstammered and predicted great things for her.
She even handled the fearsome grandmother with ease.
Once, Valerie Grigorievna stormed in for her usual visit, and within minutes was shrieking about the new sofaa prized purchase. The upholstery was too light, impractical. Five-year-old Gill listened, then grabbed grannys bags and dragged them to the gate.
“Oi! Where are you taking my things?”
“You came without love. You shout at Mum. Go away.”
“Youve turned the child against me!” the old woman screeched.
But Gill thrust the doll shed just been gifted into her face and declared, “Take it. I dont want your presents. And learn to behave.”
“Got an earful, eh, Mum?” Gene laughed. “Our Gills a serious lass. Once, I came home tipsy after celebrating a bonusshe kept me in line for a *week*.”
After that, Lucy kept Gill home on mother-in-law days, letting her stay up late. Valerie Grigorievna often left without unloading all her grievances.
Gills sharp mind made her a star at schoolclass monitor, head girl, then union rep. She missed a gold medal by a hair, purely out of practicality.
“Rabbits and bears dont talk. A blacksmith cant ride a devildevils dont exist. And that Chernyshevsky chap? A dull hack. His ramblings bore flies to death.”
She dismissed art, music, and PE with the same disdain but aced maths and sciences.
Teachers urged her to study in London, but she chose distance learning. Mums health was shaky; Granny, now seventy, needed visits. Plus, Dave Cunninghamson of the factory foremanreturned from the army. Seeing Gill in her graduation dress, he gaped.
“Blimey, Gill, youre a proper bride!”
“Hardly,” she scoffed, smoothing her sky-blue crimplon. “Ill be a queen at my own wedding.”
“Done!” Dave grinned. “Ill tell Mum to get me a velvet suit.”
“Fine. But not blacknavy. Or grey. Looks smart.”
Without a word of love or even a kiss, they spent dates planning guest lists, honeymoons, and sons names. They went to the city togetherGill for uni orientation, Dave to re-enrolreturned, applied to marry (well, they *had* planned it), and soon had little Alex. By graduation, two more boys followed.
Back from maternity leave, Gill climbed the ranks fast, outpacing Dave. For all his virtues, ambition wasnt one of them. While she worked, studied, and played office politics, he sneaked off fishing with her dad, joking that “time with a rod doesnt count toward lifes tally.”
A natural organiser, Gill read people well, spotting genuine grievances from empty whinges. Today, shed be called an “effective manager”; back then, they whispered “battle-axe” ormore tellingly”mother-in-law.” Some even pitied future daughters-in-law.
Gill never thought that far ahead, though she confided in friends Tanya and Vera that modern girls rubbed her wrong, and she wouldnt stay quiet if things werent done properly.
Her eldest worried her most. Alex, a rosy-cheeked giant like his dad, was bright but lazy, happiest fishing. The second, Vlad, was her doublea scrappy ringleader whod asked at five, “How do I be a real man?” The youngest, Stan, was a mixall fire one day, weeping over poems the next.
But Gill had little time to fuss. She was up for deputy director, and when the old party-manager finally retired, she dove in.
“Customers care about quality, price, volume, deadlines, logistics,” shed say. “Not Belovs speeches about proletarian solidarity.”
“Spot on,” the director agreed. “Our partners saw him as a relic. So step up, Gillian.”
She did. Soon, factory stocks ran low, and third shifts squeezed deadlines. Work blurred the years, and before she knew it, Alex brought home a girlfriendout of nowhere.
“Mum, Dad, this is Kate.”
The buxom, leggy brunette was so striking, Dave whistled. Gills eyes flashed.
First impressions held. Kate sunbathed instead of gardening, turned up her nose at hearty meals, moaned about the lack of sushi bars, and drained the water tank daily (“Ugh, not even a tiny pool?”).
“Hows the bride?” Tanya and Vera teased.
“Smart girl,” Gill said evenly. “Got Alex studying English. They want to work abroad.”
“Youll let them?”
“Why not? We never saw the worldlet them.”
“And leave you alone in old age?”
“Were not old yet. And weve two more at home.”
“Think our Gills scared of her,” Vera whispered.
“Rightly so,” Tanya nodded. “Clever lad, picking a lass wholl stand her ground.”
They married quietly before graduation and left.
“No wedding?” friends gasped.
“Sensible. Vlad and Stan had exams, uni placements. We gave them cash insteadeasier abroad.”
“No wedding, no real marriage,” Tanya mused.
“Really? Lets see who lasts longermy pair, who didnt blow a penny on booze, or yours, who put you in debt for five years.”
That shut them up. Gill had a way with wordslike a wet slap to the face.
The couple rarely called, though the Cunninghams mastered Skype and WhatsApp. Gill didnt mind.
“No news is good news.”
But when Alex quit his job, she fretted.
“Is he playing househusband?”
“Nah, joined a fisheries patrol,” Dave said. “Studying ichthyology.”
“Good. He was a middling engineer but always loved fishing. Smart girl, backing him. Im the one who talked him out of maritime college.”
Meanwhile, fierce Granny Val passed. Between the funeral, selling her house, and rehoming her goat (named after Lucy), Gill barely noticed her younger sons growing up.
Until Vlad announced: “Mum, Dad, meet Alice.”
Gill startledthe same words as Alex. But Alice was nothing like bold Kate. Pale and shy, she hid behind Vlad, too nervous to look up.
“Gillll walk all over this one,” Vera and Tanya gossiped.
They werent entirely wrong. Vlad aimed for his parents factory, and the wedding was a chance to schmooze bosses. While he and Dave sorted the venue, Gill took Alice dress shopping.
“After two hours and fifteen dresses, I wanted to scream,” Gill groaned. “Alice, just pick one! But shed say, I dont know, you choose, Mum. Same with the veil, the shoes.”
“Didnt you snap?”
“Im scared of her! She crumples like a flower
